


The Garden and Its Boy

by kurofu



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bad Dursleys, Child Abuse, Gen, Harry's a cute bean that deserves hugs love and protection, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Inferi!Harry, POV Outsider, Possessive Voldemort (Harry Potter), Protective Voldemort, dumbledore tries, mild body horror, subtle horror
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-01-24 07:32:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18566791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurofu/pseuds/kurofu
Summary: Lord Voldemort is always calmer when “that thing” is around. Therefore whenever he is in rage, Lucius will immediately bring that boy to him, so that the Dark Lord could hug, smell, and pet him to relax.The boy is the Death Eaters’s Savior.❅A prompt-fill (inspired) about Inferi!Harry and Voldemort AU.





	1. helleborus orientalis + verbena peruviana: Red

**Author's Note:**

> For Silv, my wonderful artistic muse of a wife. I present to you, your courting gift that is long overdue.
> 
> Inspired by this wonderful piece of art: [Inferi!Harry AU](https://silverintheslytherin.tumblr.com/post/178150868299/lord-voldemort-is-always-calmer-when-that-thing)
> 
> Beta'd by RedHorse + Caty Pie

Lucius ran. 

He ran down the ancient weathered pine floors of his manor, his heeled boots echoing a staccato rhythm in tune with the frantic pounding of his heart. His normally immaculate hair was in disarray, whipping across his face and behind him. Without pausing his pace, Lucius conjured a pale blue ribbon, a symbol of his fidelity to his house, and tied back his hair in a high ponytail.

It had been years, a decade even since he last felt the need to exert this much energy—back then, youth was synonymous with physical fitness. But now, now that he had graduated and worked a comfy Ministry job, he no longer needed it. 

At this moment, he regretted it. 

He had noticed a small pudge to his stomach as of late, and he knew that Narcissa, his lovely wife wouldn’t mention it, but he could see her judgmental gaze during the nights. Yet now, her blue eyes held no disdain. It held something he wished he would have never seen, something that he had vowed on his wedding night to protect her from, something that chilled him to his very _core_ in a way that even their Lord couldn’t achieve.

His emotions made his magic grow wild, the fear and anxiety breaking his pure-blood training. It caused the doors in the hallway to fly open, revealing the rooms hidden to him. Some of them opened with a force so hard that it cracked the ancient wood. Normally he would care, he would care so much that he would hunt down the one who made a single _scratch_ onto the wood. 

But now was not the time. 

He didn’t care that his father’s portrait would give him a very disappointed tsk and a judgemental stare tonight during their nightly councils. He didn’t care that his father would go on a long spiel of a lecture that Lucius surely did not need since he’d already been an adult for ten years.

But he knew, he knew that his father would be just as worried as he right now if his mother had come running to him, barging into an important meeting, discarding all etiquette, teary-eyed and desperate, hands grabbing at his lapels and nearly fainting. He knew his father would have done the same as he had if he had found out his son was missing.

Narcissa had sobbed into his arms, raised her blue eyes towards his and spoke the dreaded words. The moment that his brain registered them, he pushed his wife to his guest before sprinting out of the room. Subconsciously, he knew that Black would take care of his wife, he was her cousin, Regulus Black was. They had grown up together, played together, and gone to school together. He knew Regulus would care for her when he could not.

Draco, their darling child, was Lucius and Narcissa’s first and last child, the first and only child to leave Narcissa’s womb. The seven months that his beautiful wife carried their son was rife with both joy and worry. 

Narcissa was always in constant pain, Draco unwilling to settle in one position for long. He was active in the womb, so very active that it could have been a foreshadowing to the events of right now. Draco had managed to rupture a hole in her uterus, causing it to scar to the point it would never be able to hold an egg again nor properly house a fetus. That day, Draco’s birthday, he had almost lost both his wife and his only son.

Now he has lost one of them.

Lucius hated his manor.

It was an ancient relic of an heirloom that was passed down from generation to generation in the Malfoy family. From head of house to heir, never failing to be passed down. This manor had been his for the past fourteen years—this monstrous, gargantuan beast of a manor.

Malfoy Manor was extensive and confusing. Even to Lucius who had lived there all his life. The manor’s exterior was large, covering more than a third of their family’s land—its original floor plans spanning over eight pages of large parchment. 

There were floors upon floors within the manor: three different basements, one for prisoners, one for practical usage, and the last for the kitchen pantry. There were four different upper levels, each with their own purposes and nearly thirty rooms per floor. 

It was extravagant, an obscene luxury that one family shouldn’t have, but the Malfoy family do. When the seasons change, the Malfoy family do not move to a seasonal house as the normal pure-blood family does. Instead, the Malfoy family moved to a different wing every summer and winter. There were even times where over three-quarters of the manor are uninhabited but well maintained throughout the year. And now Lucius had searched through every room and floor except for a single wing.

One wing that he dreaded to trespass despite it being _his_ manor.

He had offered his Lord sanctuary a few years after the fated Halloween night where his Lord had seemingly been killed. It had been unexpected, being in the middle of the night, when his Lord had appeared in front of him.

His Lord had floo’d into Malfoy manor on a storming night, the lightning silhouetting his drenched form like an unholy entity. The thunder, the processional music announcing his presence.

Lucius had quickly bowed, overjoyed that his Lord lived, and invited his Lord to use his manor as his base, something that no-one had had the opportunity to do. Something that only he from the Malfoy family had accomplished, an honor like no other.

It had been a rash decision intended to curry favor with his Lord, but Lucius had had the presence of mind to present to his Lord a part of the manor isolated and never visited by the main family. A wing where his family would be safe and away from the influences of his Lord and his activities.

Never, he would never want Draco to encounter his Lord until he was of age. If Draco was to meet his Lord, then it would be when his son was knowledgeable of his Lord and his motives.

Yet now, Lucius had to face the possibility that his Lord has encountered his son. That his Lord would somehow find fault in his precious child and do... _something_ to him. 

With the heavy thought in mind, he carefully ventured into the Dark Lord’s wing, hidden from both sight and other senses. He shivered when he passed through the concealment charms, the magic wrapping around him like oil before sliding off.

The air was heavy with tension as he stalked through the wing, the night eerie and still. All Lucius could hear were his heartbeat thumping, and he was positive that his Lord’s snake would be able to hunt him down because of it. 

It wasn’t long, however, before he could hear childish giggles coming from a room nearby. Cautiously, he walked to a closed door with light peeking beneath—or what he thought was closed. The door was scarcely opened, and when Lucius peeked inside, his eyes widened with fear at what lay inside.

He slammed open the door and ran into the room.

“Draco!” Lucius hollered, his ponytail whipping him as he turned this way and that in the center space of the room, trying to catch a glimpse of his son. “Draco! Are you here?! Draco!”

Rustling from the side and a soft, familiar “Papa” made him turn around. 

“Draco!” Lucius ran towards his son and kneeled, wrapping his arms around his son, his precious child. He breathed in the wash Narcissa always insisted Draco use, he threaded the silky platinum strands that were so like his between his fingers and clutched his son tighter to him. Afraid that he would lose him yet again.

“Papa?” his precious boy inquired, squirming in his hold. “Papa? Are you alright? Are you crying?”

“Papa isn’t crying, silly Dragon,” he said, pulling back and took in deep, shuddering breaths, composing himself. He brushed away the messy fringe from his boy’s face, discreetly wiping his tears with his outstretched sleeves. “Where were you? Your mother and I were worried sick.” 

“I’ve been exploring the whooooole manor!” Draco shot his short arms upwards and made an arc, emphasizing the insane size of the manor. 

“So you’ve been exploring, hm? Tell me, what did you find?” 

Lucius was enraptured as he listened to his son recount his journey. He smiled when Draco told him that he found the secret passages he himself had found when he was young, the tunnels like Apparition to a child. Or when he found this one room that had the portraits of lots and lots of old people in it, the Malfoy ancestors. 

“And then—and then, Papa, I was sneaking through this one dark, and scary part of the manor, and then I found this!” Draco removed himself from his hug and spread his arms around him. And that was when Lucius blood ran cold as he made a quick look, remembering what part of the manor he found his boy in.

“Draco!” Lucius hissed, latching onto his son’s shoulders with a vice grip. “Draco! You can never be here! Do you understand?!”

Shocked silent, Draco had had his mouth agape with Lucius’ sudden interruption. Mere moments later, tears began to well in his son’s pure blue eyes, and Lucius knew he had scared his child. After all, he had never yelled at him before, never like this.

“B-but Papa, there’s another child in here!”

“Another child?”

“Yeah! There’s another child in here.” Draco hiccupped, tears silently streaming down his face. Even though he was young, his young child was already growing into a Slytherin. 

“There shouldn’t be another child in here, Draco. Describe them to me?”

“Th-they have messy black hair and green eyes and is shorter than I am. They have this big grey spot on their arm, and in some other places, he has this weird ladder-like thing made of string. There are more too. But Papa! Look!” Draco thrusted a bunch of red flowers into his hands, the juice of it dripping and caressing his small fingers like vivid blood. “Aren’t they pretty? The other child gave them to me! He was teaching me about flowers and plants and––”

Fear had drilled itself deep into Lucius with each word his son said, and he slapped the flowers out of Draco’s hands on instinct. He shook his son’s shoulders; the urgency and fear on his face had shut Draco silent.

“Listen to me, Draco! You must never, never, _never_ come into this room ever again! You must never enter this wing ever again! Ever! _Never_ set foot into this part of the manor at all!”

Rustling sounded behind him, and the fine hairs on the back of his neck raised, gooseflesh overcoming his skin. Lucius didn’t dare to turn around. Instead, he hoisted his son into his arms and ran out the door. 

He didn’t bother to slow his steps until he was out of his Lord’s wing entirely, and he ignored the silent weeping of his son. He needed to get his son back to safety, away from the influence of the Dark Lord. 

Away from the solarium of eternal day, rich fauna, and the Dark Lord’s _monstrosity._


	2. lavandula stoechas + allium hollandicum: Light Purple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Narcissa's POV

“Mummy.”

Narcissa turned around, placing down the glass vase in her hand. She bent down to her son’s height, smiling at the cute, stoic look on his face. “Hello, Dragon, good afternoon.” She brushed aside a few strands of platinum blond from his face. It needed to be cut, but Lucius was determined to keep it long as custom dictated. Narcissa thought it stupid and it hid her son’s beautiful grey eyes. 

Draco was fidgeting, she noted, his arms behind his back. She attempted to peak over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of what he could be hiding, but Draco only shifted away. What is it, she wondered, that had her son act this way. Perhaps….

She leaned back on her haunches, and placed a hand at her mouth, a forlorn expression surfacing to her face. Draco was confused at first, but no sooner had he comprehended what happened, he began to panic. 

“Mummy? Mummy? What’s wrong?” Draco’s eyes were wide, his irises flitted about. Yet his hands were still behind his back. “Why are you crying? Please don’t cry!”

Got him.

“Draco is hiding something from Mummy, and it hurts that you don’t trust me.” Narcissa wiped a fake tear just for good measure.

“No! I trust you, Mummy! I do!” He looked around the room once before leaning in conspiratorially. “I’ll show you, Mummy, just don’t tell Papa.”

“Oh?” Narcissa perked up, her face clear of tears. She leaned in too, staring intently at Draco’s face. “Did you do something that Papa shouldn’t know? Should I be concerned?”

“No! It’s not like that—” Draco squinted, “Mummy, were you fake crying?”

She gave him a blinding smile and ruffled his hair. “Yes, the sooner you figure out someone is faking, the sooner you can save yourself from being taken advantage of. Now, show me what you have.”

Draco pouted, disgruntled that he had been manipulated before he slowly removed his hands from his back. 

A small bouquet of purple flowers filled Draco’s hands, a mix between a ball of flower clusters and tall thin ones. Narcissa reached for a few, her hand curling around the thin green stalks. Lavender, she immediately recognized, was one of them, the smell invading her senses the moment she lifted the bouquet to her face. How she had not noticed the moment Draco came into the room had her perplexed since lavender had a very strong aroma. 

The other flowers were quite large, the clustered ball larger than the size of her fists. Really, how had she not seen these behind the small form of her son? But the flowers were quite peculiar. Hundreds of tiny purple flowers formed the ball, all connected to one very large stem. 

“How many of these do you have, Dragon? Do you know what kind of flowers these are? Mummy doesn’t know. They’re very beautiful though.”

“I don’t know what they are either, Mummy, but I thought you might like it.” A slight flush grew on his cute face—the thought that a baby Slytherin-in-making would blush at the mention of being a caring human being was heartwarming. It gave Narcissa the relief that despite one day growing up to be a stone-hearted young man, she knows her child had a loving, tender side as well. 

Narcissa couldn’t help the warm smile that grew on her face, she gently took the rest of the flowers out of Draco’s hand and used her other arm to bring him into a hug. “Mummy loves them, Dragon, thank you for the flowers.” She pressed a kiss to his forehead and watched with amusement as Draco’s face grew even redder and buried his response into the cloth of her dress.

Not even a second later, Draco tore himself from her hold and ran out of the room. Narcissa kneeled there on the floor, the warmth from her son quickly dissipating. Her smile began to dip, and she squashed down a slow, strangling prickly vine of disappointment that crawled itself towards her heart.

She released a sigh before picking herself up from the floor. She dusted away imaginary dust from her dress and leaned back onto the drawers behind her. Rustling caught her notice and she looked down at her hand, Narcissa was reminded of the flowers. It wouldn’t do to damage the gift that her own son had given her.

She turned back to the vase she had just cleaned. It was perfect, crystal glass and long-necked. Carefully, she put in one stem at a time until the bouquet was situated in its new home. She conjured a handful of baby’s breath and dotted them here and there until the arrangement was pleasing.

But still, something was missing.

Her manicured nails drummed atop the polished wood in a meaningless rhythm. What was it, she wondered, that would complete this gift. Narcissa ran a hand through her hair and it caught in her braid. That’s it.

When Narcissa left the room, the glass vase had a pastel purple silk ribbon tied around its neck.

 

❅

 

Slowly, Narcissa made the rounds of her duty around the mansion. It was her duty as the matriarch of House Malfoy to ensure every cog and wheel functioned properly. No surface left undusted, no room left unchecked, no meal left untasted--that was the duty of a Pureblood wife.

She had grown up knowing that her married life would be dull and repetitive, impressed into her by Druella Black, a cruel yet not unkind woman. Narcissa was not like her other sisters, Bellatrix, the power-crazed, or Andromeda, the rebellious muggle-lover, she was the perfect daughter that Druella Black could have asked for.

Narcissa could recite ten generations of each family of the Sacred Twenty-Eight and back. She could engage her husband in political talks, was intelligent enough that she would never be seen as a bore—not like her maternal aunt. Her eyes were a bright blue that Druella Black so loved to gaze into (carefully, with sharp nailed hands, she would lift her daughter’s face to meet her own), skin deliberately made pale through years of indoor solitude despite how much young Narcissa had wanted to play, and hair once black that turned blonde during a sudden and unexpected potions mishap, a folly of a young child they said. She had the temperament of an ice-carved swan: grace and aloofness all in one. 

Obedient unlike her sisters.

But it still wasn’t enough in the eyes of Druella Black. 

Druella Black had wanted something else, something that she could have called her own. An eternal child perhaps? One that would kneel beside her feet whenever she pleased, attentively listening to all her words, both poison and truth?

But Narcissa would never know, because like Draco to her, she too, squandered her mother’s ability for future children. Was it karma? Perhaps.

Because of what she had inadvertently done, Narcissa was treated with saccharine care. She was treated like a princess, the envy of her sisters, yet what they didn’t know or didn’t care to know was that all their mother-daughter interactions were thin ice hiding the darkest, deepest trenches of the sea. Every touch of hand from her mother was laced with nails, every spoken word with threat of knives, and every gift opulent to the point that they were unnecessary. And like sugar, too much can kill.

Narcissa’s fingers twitched, the tasting spoon in her hand slightly spilling some of its contents. She scraped the bottom of the porcelain spoon to the rim of the pot, removing excess soup, carefully concealing her mistake before lifting it to her mouth to taste. 

“Mimsy,” she said, eyes closed as she savoured the taste. It was lacking something, just like how the arrangement of flowers did too. 

_Rosemary._ A caress of a whisper, a soft breeze in her mind.

Yes, rosemary would be a fine addition. “Add a pinch of rosemary to the soup, please.”

Afterwards, a few rooms down from the main kitchen, Narcissa would wonder. Why had she chosen rosemary from all the herbs available, when chives and thyme and sage would work just fine as well?

A flash of purple flowers in a glass vase basking beneath the soft sunlight streaming from a nearby window came to mind.

 

❅

 

It’s been nearly two years since their Wooden Anniversary, and three more since she had moved into Malfoy Manor, but Narcissa knew that she had explored only a third of the whole manor. It always surprised her how little she knew about the Malfoys, their facade so well made that it cast the Blacks as paranoid and insane instead of they themselves. Masterful manipulators, if she said so herself.

Lucius had told her that it wasn’t worth the risk of her and their son’s life--but that was when she was carrying Draco. Surely, now that Draco was six, nearly seven, she can explore as she pleased? 

Narcissa knew that she was lucky. She had married a man that loved her, and she him. A man that respected boundaries and took care of anything she needed. They would curl up beside one another by the fireplace at night, soft and gooey with contentment without their Pureblood masks. 

Yet sometimes, Lucius was unreasonable as well.

Such as the exploration of their manor. It was _their_ manor for Merlin’s sake! What could be so dangerous or perhaps mysterious that Lucius was trying to hide? A dead body, the dark thoughts said. Unknown treasures, the gleeful said. Family secrets, the intrigued ones said.

Whatever it was, Narcissa was determined to sate at least a small sliver of her curiosity. After all, boredom was such a deadly thing, a product of loneliness she thinks. She had no friends to invite over to gossip or have tea, no lists of available families and daughters to invite to a soiree she would throw. 

Because not everyone was like her. Not everyone had an understanding husband that let her roam as she please, do as she please, and think as she please.

 

❅

 

A turn towards her left led her to an unfamiliar place. A slight magical barrier and Notice-Me-Not charm had been placed at the mouth of the hallway, but Narcissa was stubborn and she pushed through it, ignoring the rational thought in her brain that she might be trespassing. 

But that was preposterous because this was _her_ home.

Besides, something seemed to be inviting her in, calling for her to come. 

Unable to say no, Narcissa followed it. It guided her through twists and turns, confusing pathways that she was sure did not exist on the original Manor foundation. She _had_ studied the Malfoy Manor floor plans as required of her—and sheer boredom—all eight pages of them. 

At last, she reached a door. There was nothing peculiar to it, it looked the same as every other of its brethren in the hallway. She barely hesitated before placing her hand down onto the knob and opening the door.

It was breathtaking. 

Instead of a normal room dotted with furniture and upholstery, this room was filled with vegetation. Flowers of all kinds flourished everywhere. Big ones, small ones, round ones, squared ones—there were so many different varieties of flowers in here, that Narcissa was certain that there had to be more than hundreds of them.

Surprisingly, with the number of flowers in the room, none of them seemed to clash, everything was in perfect harmony, neither one too bright nor too bold.

And when she looked up, she noted that instead of wooden ceilings, panes of glass allowed sunlight to spill through. When Narcissa shaded her eyes, she could see that, in some places, shards of colourless glass were artistically placed amongst the panes, imitating the images of stained glass.

As she admired the flowers down below, she noticed that some purple flowers were missing, the green stalks jagged as if harshly cut. They were the round, ball ones, patches of blank space amongst the bushel of light purple. Was this where Draco had picked the flowers? 

Upon walking closer, Narcissa noticed something peculiar. Dark, red-brown spots littered the floor here and there. Some were small, some were big, leaving behind a trail for her to follow.

She stopped when the trail disappeared as if magically whisked away, and she bent down to inspect it. 

It was blood, she realized, very, very old blood, but blood nonetheless. Cautiously, Narcissa slipped her wand from her sleeve, holding it straight and at waist-height. Slowly, she turned a full circle, wary of an intruder. 

It was then she noticed a pair of bright green eyes shining from the bushes.

She tensed, but forcibly calmed herself because she remembered Draco having once told her that there was a boy with green eyes that lived in the room flowers. She had thought it was Draco’s imagination, but apparently, it was not.

“Are you hurt?” she called out gently, careful to not spook this new child. When no response came, she continued. “I see some blood on the floor, are you all right?”

Again, no response. 

“Draco, my son, told me about you. He said that you grow very beautiful flowers, and I must agree. I’ve never seen such a beautiful garden before.”

The green eyes shifted position, not moving away yet not moving forward.

“I am a healer, I have healed many of my son’s hurts—his scraped knees and bumped heads. Will you allow me to treat you? If you say yes, can you stick out the place that hurts?”

Slowly, an arm stuck out of the bush, and Narcissa was appalled at the paleness of it. No, paleness wasn’t the word, it held a deathly-white to pale grey tint with curling lilac and near-violets tainting the fingers like the remnants of a bruise. Other parts of the skin held dark tan streaks, too light to be soil and too ombre to look like paint. 

Carefully placed stitches trailed the tiny arm, like a macabre tattoo. Some of the sutures varied from light umber and brown-orange to outright black. And there, near the elbow, some stitches were red-black and wet, sluggishly dripping onto the floor below. 

Narcissa wordlessly conjured medical spirits and gauze, and casually reached her arm out to the limb in front of her, giving the child enough time to retreat if they wanted too.

When she finished cleaning and wrapping the wounds, the hand hastily retreated back into the bush. The sound of leaves rustling as the child escaped back into the depths of the flora. Narcissa blinked in surprise before letting out an inaudible chuckle. How shy the child was!

When she made to leave, something purple caught her eye: three stalks of lavender lay beside her feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so I've decided that this fic was going to be written in a POV Outsider. Each chapter would have a different character, and will not be used more than once. I've already some plans for Snape, Bellatrix, and Dumbledore, but I wanted to ask if anyone would like a specific character. I'll try my best to implement them, so please, comment away on some suggestions!

**Author's Note:**

> Come poke me and say Hi on [Tumblr](https://coffee-teacup.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
